


I'll Hold You Together When You Fall Apart

by Issylang



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: If you are triggered by this do not read it, M/M, alternatively titled Jeremy and the terrible horrible no good very bad day, as well as some very depressing thoughts, it is not worth it, jerejean, okay so warning, there is around 700 words of pure panic attack in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issylang/pseuds/Issylang
Summary: "Jeremy thought that it was funny, really, that people assumed that he was the one holding Jean together. That everyone assumed Jean was the only one falling apart."Jeremy has a really bad day





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: If you are triggered by panic attacks/anxiety attacks do not read this.

Jeremy thought that it was funny, really, that people assumed that he was the one holding Jean together. That everyone assumed Jean was the only one falling apart. 

Jeremy thought that it was stupid, that  _ he  _ was stupid, really, for needing Jean to put him back together after all that the other boy had gone through. 

He had wanted to protest when Jean had sent the team a text telling them that their captain was sick and that there would be no practice today, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Instead, he curled in on himself and stared at the wall, not really seeing anything. 

Jeremy hated days like today.  _ Bad days,  _ his therapist had told him when he was 14.  _ Depressive episodes,  _ his therapist had called them when he was 17.  _ Being lazy _ , everyone had said when he got like this. 

The annoying part was that he didn't even have the energy to be angry at them for saying it, or to even disagree. He didn't have the energy to do anything. 

He stayed like that all morning, even after Jean got up to go on his—no,  _ their  _ morning jog. He  _ wanted  _ to go, really. He just couldn’t find it in him to get out of bed, let alone run.

The smell of coffee and pancakes wafting through the dorm couldn't even get him to move. He  _ wanted  _ to go eat breakfast with his wonderful boyfriend before practice, he just  _ couldn’t _ .

His eyes remained unfocused and unseeing even after Jean had returned to the room to start getting ready. It didn’t matter how desperately Jeremy wanted to get up, wanted to attend class, his body was unwilling to move at all. 

Jean looked at the man who had put him back together and his heart ached. The boy in front of him looked so small, so bored with life, so  _ unlike Jeremy _ that he wanted nothing more than to fight all of his demons with his bare hands. 

But that isn’t how the world works, so he pushed away his anger and tried to make life as easy as possible for the other boy. Jean pulled out Jeremy’s laptop and emailed his professors that he was sick, placed a mug of coffee and a glass of water on the bedside table, and ghosted his lips over his boyfriend’s forehead.

It wasn’t the first time he had done this, and, no matter how much it hurt to admit, it had practically become a habit with the number of bad days the two of them had throughout the semester. No, the first time Jeremy had a day like this he tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening, that he was just tired and could work it out if he could just go to practice. Except, it’s really hard to convince someone else that you’re ready to go play a sport when you have to convince yourself to get out of bed. So Jeremy stopped fighting it and told Jean what he normally did on days like this and they hadn’t spoken about it since. 

Jean took one last look at his boyfriend—who was usually an actual ball of sunshine—all glassy-eyed and apathetic and wished for nothing more than to help him before closing the door and heading off to class.

At the sound of the door closing, Jeremy’s mind seemed to snap immediately in the opposite direction. 

His lungs constricted and his breathing hitched and his stomach rolled and suddenly he was moving, rushing to the bathroom in the hopes of emptying out his panic along with his dinner from last night. 

He pulled himself away from the toilet and curled in on himself in between it and the tub, his mind running a constant stream of thoughts, none of them good. 

_ You're never going to make it to finals if your team isn't practicing. _

_ You're never going to graduate if you have to miss class. Your grades will drop and you'll be kicked off the exy team and out of USC and your life will be over.  _

_ Isn't it pathetic,  _ you  _ falling apart after all  _ he’s  _ been through? He must think you're ridiculous. He could never really love a fake like you, how could he?  _

_ You’re too much.  _

He didn't process the fact that he was hyperventilating, or that he had dug his nails so hard into his palm that he drew blood, or that the world around him was shaking. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, too busy unraveling on the inside to know that the outside matched. 

He wasn't really sure how long he stayed like that, shaking and shivering, his breath coming out too short for comfort, his mind speeding through thoughts so fast it destroyed everything in its wake. He didn't think it could ever end. 

This was what his therapists called  _ panic attacks  _ or  _ anxiety attacks.  _ This is what people call  _ being irrational  _ or  _ having a breakdown.  _ This is when people told him to  _ pull it together  _ and to  _ get over yourself  _ and to  _ stop making a big deal out of nothing.  _

He wanted to scream, to let them know that he was  _ trying,  _ that he  _ didn’t want this _ , that if he could  _ stop it he would,  _ but his throat refused to let the words come out. 

Suddenly, there was a voice in his ear, hands near him but not actually touching, and the scent of coffee and pancakes and toothpaste and a plethora of other things that smelled like  _ home  _ surrounding him. 

He tried to tune his thoughts out, to focus on the words the voice was saying and the steady breathing next to him, but all he could process was his own mind. He belatedly realized that there was another voice thrown into the mix, his own, though it sounded strange and raspy, repeating the words  _ I can't  _ like it didn't know how to say anything else. 

He felt sick and overwhelmed and he knew Jean was there, knew Jean wanted him to come back, but he just  _ couldn’t. _

He jumped at the feeling of hands on his face, but his body knew what it wanted more than his mind, so he remained right where he was. 

“Jeremy,  _ mon chou _ , come back to me. There's nothing wrong, come on, just breathe with me. In and out, mon  _ coeur _ , in and out. Feel my breaths, in and out.”

He was clutching desperately at the shirt of the man in front of him, trying to steady his breathing, attempting to silence the voice in his head that was telling him that he  _ wasn't worth it  _ and that  _ Jean could never love a mess like you _ . 

“That's it,  _ mon soleil _ , breathe with me. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Those words were  _ supposed _ to help. Jeremy  _ wanted _ them to help, but they  _ didn’t,  _ and that honestly just upset him even more.

“I  _ know  _ it's okay. That's the  _ problem.  _ There is nothing conceivably  _ wrong  _ with me, this shouldn't even happen. I mean, why do you even put up with this? How can you look at me freak out over absolutely  _ nothing  _ after all that you've been through?” 

“Jeremy–”

“No, don't give me that. Don't give me that exasperatedly fond tone. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. And, no, don’t argue. You know I'm right.”

His breath was quickening once again, spiraling out of his control. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Jean to  _ stay,  _ that  _ he loved him and he needed him and he didn’t want to push him away and that he was sorry for being such a mess and _ —

“No. You are not right and I refuse to agree with you. This is not your fault. This is not something you want.  _ Jeremy Knox, do not argue with me, this is not your fault.  _ Do you remember what you told me the first time I panicked? Because I think you may have forgotten. 

“You saw me panicking and withdrawing from the world around me, and when I told you that I wasn’t worth the effort and that you were wasting your time trying to fix me, you stood your ground and told me, ‘Never invalidate yourself. Your feelings and your being are always worth it.’

“It’s time to follow your own advice, _mon chou_. Breathe. Everyone has bad days,  _ mon soleil _ , and there is nothing wrong with needing help. Your teachers are understanding, our teammates are understanding, coach Rhemann is understanding, and, more than anyone, I am understanding. Needing a day to fall apart is not the end of the world, and tomorrow you’ll be right back at it, ready to tackle anything.

“Yes, I love you when you're happy and bubbly and being captain fucking sunshine, of course I do. But I also love you when you are not. I love you when you mope and when you are in a panic and when you cannot find any conceivable way to be positive. I always love you, Jeremy Knox. All of you. And I always will. Understand?”

Jeremy nodded his head. His panic had ebbed at some point during Jean’s rant and honestly he just felt  _ exhausted.  _ There was no fight, no panic left in his body, just a tiredness so intense it filled his bones and weighed him down. 

Jean seemed to notice this (Jean always seemed to notice things without Jeremy telling him) and picked Jeremy up rather than making him clean up on his own. He stripped off the other boy’s sweaty clothes and gently washed the panic off of his skin and out of his hair before helping Jeremy rid his mouth of the taste of vomit. Jean helped him into a size too big hoodie with the name Moreau on the back and oversized flannel pyjama pants that had seen some better days before tucking him back in. 

“How come you’re not in class? Did you skip for me? You really shouldn’t do that, darling, it’s not—”

“ _ Mon soleil _ , it’s fine. Classes were canceled today, you didn’t miss anything anyways. Do you want me to lay with you?”

“As long as you don’t have something else to do.”

Jean sighed at his ridiculously self-deprecating boyfriend and slid under the covers behind him, content to hold Jeremy together whenever he doesn’t have the strength to do it himself for the rest of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> So like, thank you so much to my beta Claire (colormayfade on tumblr). She is the most wonderful human being ever, honestly. Also, if you wanna check out more of my writing my Harry Potter tumblr is lamelylimes and my multi fandom one is glendowen.  
> If you wanna come scream about any of your interests come find me there!


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